


The Thursday Night Crew

by Mice



Series: Moments Sacred and Profane [6]
Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/pseuds/Mice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson takes Rodney to meet some of his friends.</p><p>Now with cover art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thursday Night Crew

_"This must be a Thursday," said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."i >_

~~Douglas Adams, from _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ ~~

"Really, Rodney, it won't be so bad." Carson looked at his friend over his cup of not-quite-tea. "It's not like it's some wild orgy or anything. We get together and play cards, or talk, or sometimes somebody brings an instrument."

Rodney's mouth was occupied with his coffee at the moment, so he didn't reply. The expression in his eyes was uneasy though. Setting the cup down, he ate a few bites of dinner.

"You're still afraid to let people know, aren't you?"

Rodney nodded slightly. "Yes. I'm still nervous about Tuchman knowing. It's been three weeks, and I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's like Imelda Marcos is up there, messing up my life with her fetish."

"Imelda Marcos?" Rodney had lost him.

"You know, Philippine Islands dictator's wife? Three thousand pairs of shoes?" Rodney's eyebrow quirked.

"Um... right then." Carson shifted in his seat. "So will you go with me? You might actually enjoy yourself."

"You weren't listening, were you? They'll mock me. Rumors would fly and I'd be in a position where I couldn't do my job anymore. The loss of respect could make supervising the rest of the scientific team extremely difficult."

Carson leaned his head into one palm. It was aching again. He was still on light duty after the skull fracture. At least his English was in good repair now. The headaches, though, had yet to depart. They were a nearly daily occurrence, exceeded only by his continuing exhaustion.

"It's not like you're incapable of mocking them back," Carson said, trying to ignore the pain.

"I really prefer to be the one doing the mocking, Carson."

"Naturally," Carson muttered. "Is that a yes or a no, then?"

Rodney glowered. "Okay, yes. If it'll get you to shut up about it."

Carson smiled. "Well, that was easy enough now, wasn't it?"

"What time?"

"When we're done here."

Rodney sighed heavily and gave him an exceedingly put-upon look.

***

He'd been worried about Carson for quite a while now. Rodney had never expected a knock on the head -- even one as bad as Carson had taken -- to be over a month in healing. He spent time watching as his friend did his work in a state of constant exhaustion. Bentz had put him on light duty, but that didn't mean Carson didn't cheat and push himself to add an hour here or half an hour there, especially when things were going badly.

Bentz and Tuchman tried to keep an eye on him, and some of Carson's other friends would call him on it if they saw him working past what they thought were his limits. Rodney'd done it several times himself. Once he'd even escorted Carson back to his quarters and watched him get into bed before he'd left.

Part of him had regretted leaving.

He was already regretting agreeing to go with Carson to meet his so-called 'Thursday Night Crew' at the moment. Aside from Zelenka and Siwicki, he had no idea who was going to be there. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out, really. Well, at least he could be reasonably sure that Zelenka and Siwicki wouldn't ambush him in a dark corridor later.

Carson knocked on Zelenka's door and it opened. "Come on, Rodney."

He hung back for a moment then entered a few steps behind Carson. There were about a dozen people squeezed into the room. He recognized several, surprised at some, but shocked about Stackhouse's presence. Another Marine, a short but very buff, very bald black guy with hands like a side of back bacon sat in Stackhouse's lap.

There was another military guy, and one Air Force woman. He didn't know the names of most of the people present. A murmur went through the room at his entrance. They all obviously knew who he was. He took a moment's pride in that.

Geoff Osbourne, a geologist who'd been in Antarctica and almost died from exposure to an Ancient virus a couple of years back, was snuggled up to Zelenka. Rodney always suspected Osbourne pegged a Kinsey 6.

Erin Siwicki was playing go with some Asian guy from admin. Grodin was there as well, and there was a rather delicious looking trio of women curled up on Zelenka's bunk in each other's laps.

"Rodney, don't let your tongue drag on the floor now. It's unattractive. Besides, they're not interested in men at all," Carson said.

"Hey, Carson." Siwicki's eyebrow rose. "You brought McKay?"

"I thought you had better taste than that," Stackhouse said. The Marine in his lap chuckled.

"None of that, now," Carson grumped.

"You mean you're... you and McKay?" That was Grodin.

"McKay happens to be right here," Rodney snarled. "He resents being spoken of as if he isn't. I knew this was a lousy idea."

"Sorry Rodney," Siwicki said. "We're just... surprised." She stood and held out her hand. "Welcome."

"Oh, now you say hello."

Siwicki shrugged, hand still out. She was persistent, if nothing else. "If you prefer we didn't, I suppose we could go with the cold shoulder routine, but that would probably be unpleasant for everyone."

He blinked at her then hesitantly held out his hand. Hers was warm and strong, but she wasn't playing squish the geekfist testosterone games. That pleased him. She gave him what looked like a genuine smile.

"You play go?" she asked.

"I have," he said. "I'm a chess man myself."

"That's okay. Some of us play that too. C'mon and sit with me and Hiro." She waved to an empty spot on the floor.

With that, the others greeted Carson with hugs. Rodney was greeted rather more cautiously and introduced to everyone, but he had really expected to be unceremoniously tossed from this little clique. He was fairly sure he would have been, had he not arrived in Carson's shadow. The man was more popular than he had any right to be.

After a few moments, he sat down in the space that Siwicki had offered. Carson sat with him on a pillow they'd been tossed, leaning on him a little. That was pleasant, but Carson was looking very worn and he was concerned.

"You okay?" He looked at Carson and slid an arm around his waist without thinking.

"Aye, just tired. You know how it's been for me lately." Carson's arm slipped around him, and Rodney sighed quietly, enjoying the contact. He heard people shifting in the room and conversations picking back up. It took a moment for him to realize that they'd relaxed at his gesture of support and affection.

It was as though he'd passed some kind of test. Sitting there in a room full of people with his arm around Carson felt... a little dangerous. It was strange, and even a bit uneasy, but good. He thought maybe he liked that feeling. He realized that, aside from that gay bar in Toronto he'd gone to once, it was the first time in his life he'd been in a room where everyone else was like him, at least in this respect.

The Air Force chickie offered him a glass of wine -- Merlot -- and he accepted, not bothering to ask where it had come from. Carson asked for tea instead. Osbourne got up and found some for him, or at least what the Athosians considered "tea."

"You feeling any better?" Osbourne said when he handed the hot mug to Carson. The man was quiet and soft-spoken, his small beard neatly trimmed and greying slightly. He seemed rather pleasant.

"About the same," Carson confessed. "Tired most of the time."

Osbourne nodded as he crouched by them, and rubbed Carson's shoulder for a moment. "You should take better care of yourself, Carson. You work too hard, and you're not well yet."

"So they tell me," Carson said. Rodney just pulled him a little closer.

"He does. I'm trying to keep him from overdoing, though." Rodney looked up, catching Osbourne's clear, light blue eyes.

Osbourne smiled. "That's good," he said. "Someone should be. He never pays enough attention to himself."

"I know," Rodney said, trying not to wonder if Osbourne was one of the guys Carson had gotten an offer from before. The guy was certainly solicitous, despite the fact that he'd been swapping tonsils with Zelenka when they walked in. He was nice enough looking. Hell, he'd probably have taken Osbourne up on it himself. Once, anyway.

"I pay attention when it's necessary," Carson insisted. Rodney snorted.

He turned to watch Hiro Nagazima and Siwicki playing while Carson talked quietly with the others. Rodney kept an ear on the conversation, though the game was quite absorbing.

It was apparent that both were good players. The pattern and precision of their moves impressed him. It was like watching fractals grow across the board in black and white. Cautious moves and countermoves, the capture of territory; it was a primal game of skill and strategy. He hadn't considered the idea that anthropologists and admin clerks might have orderly, mathematical minds.

Hiro took the game by a narrow margin.

"Looks like you get cut to a three handicap next time, Erin," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah, I think I'm finally catching up to you. Does that mean I get to play with the big boys when we get back to Earth?" There was a wistful tone in her question, and he wasn't sure if it was about playing, or about getting home.

" _Hai_! You might rate a first dan pro ranking. You'd have to work your way up through the tournaments, though."

Siwicki grinned broadly then turned to Rodney. "You want to play next?" She gestured at the board.

"Chess maybe," he said.

"What," Hiro said, taunting, "Rodney 'I Am The Genius' McKay is afraid of a game?"

"Of course not." Rodney's shoulders stiffened and he bristled slightly.

Hiro shrugged. "I'll give you the full handicap."

"Maybe next time. I'd rather watch a few more games first. It's been at least ten years since I played." He forced himself to relax.

"Is that modesty I hear, Rodney?" Grodin grinned at him from the well-stuffed chair he was occupying.

"Logic. Not that you'd recognize it, Peter. If I'm going to kick his ass, I need to absorb his strategy first." Rodney gave him a lopsided grin.

"Not a bad idea, considering I have a third dan professional ranking," Hiro said with a smug smile.

Siwicki chuckled evilly. "Whose ass is gonna get kicked?" She steepled her fingers in a very Mr. Burns-oid way.

Rodney reconsidered. He'd only played against ranked amateurs when the chess team and the go team crossed swords in university. "His." Rodney grinned back.

There was laughter in the room, but it didn't feel sharp, or even aimed at him for a change. It was the sound of people enjoying themselves and each other's company.

"Oh," Siwicki said, "I forgot to tell everybody. I won't be here next week."

"Why not?" somebody in the lesbian puppy-pile asked.

"Weir's shipping me off to the mainland." She leaned an elbow on the table and rested her chin in one hand. "She's assigned me as the cultural liaison to the Athosians. I convinced her that since they're our only allies at the moment, it would behoove us to create some mutual cross-cultural understanding."

"Behoove?" Rodney asked. "What are you, an equine?"

"Rodney," Carson chided quietly. Rodney ignored him.

She snorted. "Ruminant, actually. We anthropologists love nothing more than chewing on a twisty cultural puzzle."

Rodney mooed at her. She bleated back like a goat. Several people laughed. Well, she had the stubbornness, from what he'd seen of her.

"How long are you assigned there?" Stackhouses' lap-sitter asked. Jackson De Lancie, that was his name. A corporal, he thought.

Siwicki shrugged. "At least six months. After that, we'll see. Depends on how much in-depth work I'll get to do."

They stayed for about two hours, and Rodney surprised himself by having civil conversations with several of Carson's friends. Zelenka and Osbourne got rather more affectionate as the evening progressed, but Carson had been right when he said it wasn't an orgy. Watching the cuddly lesbian trio over on Zelenka's bunk made him wish it was but, sadly, he doubted he'd get to see _that_ fantasy.

He'd noticed Carson leaning against him more and more heavily in the last half hour, his head finally resting on Rodney's shoulder. This bothered him, despite the fact that he'd ended up with both his arms around the man and realizing just how good that felt. Carson really needed more rest than he was getting.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I think it's time I got you home."

Carson yawned. "Och, you may be right." He stretched a little. "I'm feeling somewhat weary."

"I think you were at 'somewhat weary' when we were still eating dinner. You're about to fall over on your face. I don't think that's advisable."

Carson looked at him. "Right, then. Obviously you have a better grasp on my medical condition than I do."

"At the moment?" Rodney frowned. "Yes, I actually do. You know Tuchman'll kill you if she knows you're up this late."

"It's like bein' around my mum, but without the meals," Carson said wryly.

Rodney chuckled, helping Carson to his feet.

"Well, _mo chàirdean_ , it's time we're off. I'll see you next week." Carson got goodbye hugs from most of them, and Rodney, to his surprise, got one from Siwicki. It figured. Squishy sciences people were so touchy-feely.

As the door was closing behind them, he heard Stackhouse's hushed voice. "I never thought I'd say this, especially about McKay, but they're actually kind of cute together."

Rodney cringed. He'd get even later. Creatively.

***

He didn't touch Carson in the hallway, though Rodney hovered close in case he stumbled from his exhaustion. That had happened a few times since he'd been released from the infirmary. He'd have kept an arm around Carson, but there was too much chance someone would see. That wasn't acceptable.

He found himself missing the warmth of Carson's body against his own. He wondered when that had become such an issue for him. Sometime during the fire, he thought. When they'd both nearly died. It had been so close.

The people and the atmosphere at Zelenka's had been different than he'd expected. They'd treated him like a person instead of an annoyance. It had been... nice. He wasn't sure what had made the difference. Was it really just that he cared about Carson and let himself show it for once?

"Would you come in?" Carson asked, when they got to his door.

Rodney shrugged, his heart beating a little more quickly. "Sure. Why not." He followed Carson in, but hesitated at Carson's bedroom door.

Carson sat with an exhausted sigh then looked up at him. "Come sit with me," he said softly. He patted the mattress.

Rodney couldn't bring himself to refuse the invitation. He sat and put his arms around Carson. Carson sighed another heavy, exhausted sigh then nuzzled at Rodney's face for a long moment.

Softly, Carson kissed him.

He caught a quick breath then fell into the kiss. It was gentle, exploratory, filled with want and need, and Rodney's chest was heavy with emotion as they held each other, hands caressing backs and sides.

The words were impossible to say, but he did care for Carson, and he filled his kiss with his feelings of friendship and longing, with his concern and his worry. There was something about it that felt so deep to him, inexpressible, and that was frightening because he was pretty good with words. He could barely wrap his considerable mind around the idea he could want someone so much. He'd played with the fantasy constantly in Antarctica but the reality was something entirely different.

Rodney pulled back, panting. "Carson, you're not up for this."

Carson's blue-grey eyes were heavily lidded, warm but tired. "I know, I know. But..." he hesitated.

"What?" Rodney let one hand drift over Carson's rough, stubbled cheek.

"Would you stay with me tonight?" The request was soft, but Rodney heard the emotion behind it. Carson needed him.

Carson needed him. It wasn't just some random moment of lust, no easily dismissible quirk of desire. It wasn't even about sex at all. Carson was exhausted and hurting and lonely, and he wanted Rodney with him. Not Osbourne or Tuchman or anyone else -- Carson wanted him, wanted Rodney to care for him and about him. It was more than a little disturbing, knowing someone needed him that way. Needing his knowledge or his skill or his expertise: that he understood. This was foreign, a concept dealing with the heart, not intelligence. The waters here were murky.

"Yeah, okay." He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Carson smiled and sighed. He tugged at his shirt, and Rodney helped him get it over his head. He started getting undressed himself, and in a few moments they were both tucked into Carson's small bunk.

He held Carson wrapped in his arms, the length of their bodies connected, warm skin pressing warm skin. Rodney remembered how he'd felt when he woke from his nightmares in the infirmary, wanting the reassuring presence of Carson pressed against him. He could hear Carson breathing, feel the pulse of his friend's heartbeat with Carson's back against him.

It was better than he had imagined.

"Thank you," Carson said.

Rodney pulled him closer. "Any time."

Carson turned his face toward him. "Will you still be here in the morning?" he asked, quiet. His expression betrayed his anxiety. It was a legitimate question, considering what had happened last time.

Rodney kissed him. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes."

~~fin~~

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese in the story:  
> Hai - yes
> 
> Gaelic in the story:  
> mo chàirdean - my friends


End file.
